


This Is The Best Day Ever

by MyChemicalRachel



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Depressing, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 21:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1241707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyChemicalRachel/pseuds/MyChemicalRachel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a one shot I wrote based on This Is The Best Day Ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is The Best Day Ever

The voices brush against my mind like the cool air on my skin. It tickles, making an itch that just never seems to go away.

"Everything will go away soon," The voice promises. The tone is rough and soothing at the same time, just a simple breeze in my ears. It's something I've never quite been able to grasp. It's neither male nor female, real or fake, loud or hushed. It just is.

I swallow the bile that I can taste in my throat, bitter and dry. With the toothbrush tight between my fingers, I raise a shaking hand toward my mouth. Pressing the smooth end of the object as far back in my throat as I can, I hit a certain spot and the contents of my stomach seem to surge forward. I cough it up, my eyes clenched closed. I don't want to see what I'm causing. The echoing heaves are repulsive enough.

"Good," The voice coos, seeming pleased as I clamber to my feet. My fingers grip too tight the marble counter top, my legs feeling too unsteady under my body. I cringe when I catch a glimpse of my own reflection in the mirror above the sink. My face is pale, sunken in, my cheeks looking hollow and thin. My eyes glimmer only slightly under the blinding overhead light, the brilliance sending a dull ache pounding through my skull. I see my reflection sway but I don't feel the motion. All I feel is the uneasy vertigo that sweeps over me, surrounding me and pushing me toward the tiled bathroom floor…

•••

I feel the cool sheets rustle under my body, touching bare skin in places where skin should not be exposed. With my eyes still closed, I allow my hands to search for the blanket that hangs unkempt near my hips, pulling it up higher. The rhythmic beeps echo through the room, reverberating in my head and bringing back a mirror of the previous ache. I don’t have to look around to know where I am, the sterile smell of the hospital alerting me to the surroundings more than eyesight could. Even still, I peel my eyelids up, my lashes sticking together with the glue-like sleep, gooey and crusted and gathering in the corner near the bridge of my nose. I rub the back of my hands across my face, forcing the fatigue back and trying to focus on what’s going on. How did I get here? I shuffle through the thoughts, recalling the memories of what happened before I woke up. I remember getting sick again and then…

Shit. I must have passed out after purging.

I glance around the dimly lit room, taking notice of the heart monitor that pulses at a steady pace to my left, nothing but the pale blue curtain that divides the room to my right. Pulling myself up to a sitting position, I take note of my physical situation. I’m clothed now in a very revealing and uncomfortable hospital gown, the papery material crinkling awkwardly when I move. Various tubes feed unknown liquids into my veins and I flinch at the sight of those, silently grateful that I was poked and prodded while I was unconscious. The only thing worse than being at a hospital was being jabbed with needles at said hospital. Countless times, multiple nurses had to hold me down for just a single shot.

My gaze moves to the door as it swings open, a lean woman in bright pink scrubs appearing in the entrance. Her eyes scan over the clipboard in her hands before she looks up at me. She looks vaguely familiar and I assume I’ve probably seen her during one of my previous visits. My assumptions are proven to be correct when she sighs and comes farther into the room, raising a single eyebrow at me. I simply offer a cheeky grin. She doesn’t come to my bedside, like I figured she would. Instead, she makes her way to the curtain, sliding it aside and disappearing on the other side.

I sit up straighter, listening carefully, though the voices are muffled and quiet, their words obscure and unintelligible. Halfway through the faint words, a cough erupts. A loud, echoing hacking that seems to shake the walls. The noise seems dry and drowned out at the same time and it grates at my ears. I slink back into the pillows a little, letting them offer some cushioning against the sound, muting it slightly.

An instant later, the curtain is being pushed aside once again, though this time it goes all the way back to the wall. Occupying the other side of the room is another bed, much like the one I myself lie in, supporting the frail-looking body of a man. At first glance, he looks almost old. His black hair is thinning, though what remains hangs down to his shoulders. His pale skin seems to cling to his gaunt face, seeming to wrinkle very slightly near his eyes and neck. But the longer I stare, I begin to realize that he’s not old at all. The extra folds of skin seem to be due to rapid weight loss, not aging, as he can’t be older than sixteen at most. He’s grinning at the nurse, who looks back with a small smile.

“Ray said he might come by sometime next week,” The boy says. His voice is filled with an excitement that I don’t think his body could handle. He looks so… fragile. “If he brings Pansy, I’ll be able to kick some real ass up in here. Show you guys some real talent.”

The nurse shakes her head and laughs lightly. “You know you can’t play guitar, Frank,” She says, checking the various IV’s that penetrate his pale flesh. “The medications thin your blood too much. One slip-up could result in major calamity.”

The boy-- Frank-- frowns, biting down on his lip. He shrugs. “I miss playing, though.” The words are mumbled and I’m not sure if he was talking to himself or the nurse, but she doesn’t reply. She silently continues with her work, checking the medications and marking on the clipboard she holds. As she moves swiftly around his bed, the boy’s head rests back on the pillow, turning toward me. His eyes light up when they land on me-- or what I assume to be me, as I don’t think he would be that excited about seeing a wall-- and he sits up again. I immediately avert my gaze, looking back to the rough sheets that cover me, clasping my hands on top of the material.

“He’s so skinny,” The voice shakes through my mind and I cringe against the familiarity, the daunting tone, the patronizing edge. The voice only I can hear. “Why can’t you be that skinny, Gerard?”

“Kandice!” Frank exclaims and I hear that bubbly excitement again. I risk a glance up and see that he’s shifting his anxious gaze between the nurse and I. “Why didn’t you tell me I got a room mate?”

The nurse chuckles and watches me warily. “He just arrived last night. I didn’t want to wake you.”

Frank turns his full attention back to me, pivoting on the bed and swinging his legs over the side, ignoring the nurse’s protests. He’s short, I notice, as his legs dangle above the floor, swaying in mid-air. As he watches me with a piercing hazel gaze, I can’t help but feel terrified. He’s not intimidating, but the way he’s staring makes me cringe. It also riles up the voice in my head, hate-filled thoughts seeming to crowd my mind. I grind my teeth together and fight the sudden urge to flee the room. Instead, I focus on his eyes. They flicker vividly under the fluorescent lights, shimmering against the amber, green, and gold. It occurs to me, studying the multitude of brilliant colors in his eyes, how close he is. The beds couldn’t be more than a few feet apart and that simple fact makes me flinch again. He’s too close.

He doesn’t seem to take notice of my internal panic and offers a small wave in my direction. “I’m Frank,” He says happily, a pleasant smile still etched onto his features. “I’m dying of lung cancer.”

His words catch me off-guard and for a split second, I think I must have misheard him. The dubious look that the nurse shoots him makes me realize that I heard him correctly, but the cheeky grin that stretches across his pale lips has me thinking that maybe he’s lying. But what kind of demented person jokes about dying of cancer?

“Umm…” I fumble for words but they all seem to have failed me, leaving me gaping at this strange boy. Fortunately, Kandice finishes her duties then and her attention turns to me as she comes to stand at the end of my bed.

“I just have a few questions to clarify your information,” She says, her eyes focused on the clipboard. Her pen hovers over the paper, ready to fix any of my misinformation. “Name?”

“Gerard Way.”

She nods, like I got the question right. Duh, bitch. I know my own name.

“Age 17?” I nod. “And the reason you’re here?”

I don’t reply. Honestly, I’m not sure. Why am I here? I’ve visited the hospital for so many different reasons in the past few years that I’m not quite sure there’s just one determining factor anymore. The nurse glances up at me, waiting for an answer.

I shrug in response. “I think I passed out.”

She nods, continuing to inform me of the rest of my circumstances. “You were found in the bathroom. Toothbrush present. Again.” She purses her lips at me. “Again, Gerard? This is the third time you’ve been admitted for bulimic tendencies.”

I nod, not really sure what she wants me to say. I’m sorry? Well, I’m not. So I remain silent and eventually she sighs, placing the clipboard at the cubby at the foot of my bed, and leaves the room. I feel Frank’s eyes boring into me and slowly turn to face him.

“You shouldn’t do that to yourself,” He says. His excitement from before seems deflated and he watches me with a curious gaze. Almost sympathetic. I’m mental and this dying boy feels sympathy for me? But at the same time, his empathy makes me smile. Normally, when people find out that I starve myself, or purge, they call me a freak.

“You’re a boy,” The voice taunts. “Boys shouldn’t worry about looking skinny.”

I close my eyes against the words, their harshness stinging both inside and out.

“Is that the only reason you’re here?” Frank wonders.

I hesitate for a slight second and then nod.

Silence consumes us for only a moment before his soft voice sounds again. “When my cancer started spreading, my family left me here.” I look up at him, my eyes meeting his. His words sound so calm, unaffected by the tragedy they hold.

“They don’t visit?” I wonder.

Frank shakes his head. “Nope.” He shrugs. “They know I’m going to die and they don’t want to be around when it happens.” I don’t know what to say so I remain silent, just watching his legs swinging back and forth. “I told you why I’m here,” He says. “Now it’s your turn.” A grin stretches across his face again and I see once again just how young he is. “And no bullshit this time. I can tell you’re lying.”

I bite down on my lip. I want to shift my gaze back to the blanket, ignore him, and maybe go back to sleep. But his eyes hold me, mesmerized, and I find myself speaking. “When I was fourteen, I was diagnosed with Manic Depressive Disorder. I hear voices in my head and they tell me to do things.” I hesitate again and swallow hard, my throat feeling dry. “Some of the effects were bulimia and paranoia.”

Frank cocks his head to one side, studying me. The scrutiny makes me feel uncomfortable and I writhe slightly under the thin cover. After a few long minutes, I sigh, irritated. “Go on,” I say. “Tell me the voices aren’t real. Tell me I’m crazy.”

But Frank just shakes his head. “I don’t think you’re crazy.” I roll my eyes. Everyone thinks I’m crazy. I’m watching the ceiling, the prickled tiles seeming to catch my attention and I study the rough textures. I notice when Frank slides out of the bed, shuffling his bare feet against the slick floor between us slowly, and my jaw clenches involuntarily. He doesn’t say anything though he jumps up onto my bed near my feet. He smiles gently, his face seeming softer, the bones more rigid up close. “I don’t think you’re crazy,” He repeats. “You know, they tell me I only have a few more months left, but I don’t believe them. I feel fine--” His words are cut off immediately when another fit of coughs erupts from his chest. When he pulls his hand away from his mouth, he rubs his palm on the side of his gown, leaving a pale streak of blood in it’s path. He grimaces when he catches me watching. “Sorry.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Did you just apologize for being sick?”

“Yeah, I guess I did.” He laughs, a sound that seems addicting and contagious. I want to hear that sound more, I realize, and find myself grinning right along with him.

•••

I feel Frank’s hand as it rests on my chest, heavy with the sleep that consumes him. His small frame is curled into my side, my arm tight around his shoulders, a makeshift shield of a sort, like I’m protecting him from everything the outside world has to throw at him.

He stirs a bit in his sleep and I tighten my grip, not wanting him to fall off of the marrow bed, but also not willing to let him wander astray. I want him as close to me as possible.

Over the past two months, since my admission into Clara Maass Medical Center, Frank and I had grown, in simple terms, inseparable. At first, I tried to avoid him at all costs. If he was awake, I would attempt to sleep, even if that meant staying awake all hours of the night and screwing up my entire sleeping schedule. That was also when I learned that he was a slight insomniac and, though his medication, as well as his condition, made him feel exhausted most of the time, he barely slept. And yet, somehow, through the lack of energy, he was a very chipper person. He was always smiling and joking with the various nurses and doctors, even when it came time for his medication or treatment, both of which things were the cause of his weight and hair loss. But, the more I was around him, the more I came to actually enjoy his company. I guess being stuck in a cramped room with the same person for  sixty-three days is bound to have an effect on you, and believe me when I say that Frank’s presence definitely had an effect on me.

Within only a few days, I found myself being drawn to him. His personality was captivating and I was mesmerized by his ere of confidence.

He was dying and yet he was the most lively person I’d ever met.

When we were alone, he was quiet. I think he sensed that his presence was strange to me and I would rather be left alone, but soon enough, I was making the first effort to talk to him. It could be something as simple as asking what television show he was watching or what song he was listening to, but the spark that lit up his beautiful hazel eyes when he replied was addicting. I wanted to see more of that spark and I found myself talking to him more and more, just to see the excitement light up his face when he did so.

It took awhile longer before measly talks turned into burning touch. I was paranoid; I didn’t want him anywhere near me, though the first time our skin came in actual contact, I wanted more. At first, it was nothing but his hand grazing mine when we both reached for the television remote. He had apologized quickly but my mind couldn’t even register his words through the accelerating beat of my heart. Almost involuntarily, I would find times to touch him. When he walked by me, I would lean over an inch or so, brushing my shoulder against his. When we would talk, each on our own separate beds, I would bump his foot with mine. I think he liked the contact, too-- feeling some sort of human interaction other than being poked and prodded with needles-- because he started instigating it. He would move onto my bed when we were talking, sometimes nudging my shoulder with his own or skimming his fingers across mine. And each time it sent an electrifying chill through my body, making me shiver with pleasure and fear. I was getting too close to him, I knew that, but it was impossible to not feel relaxed when he was near.

But the most alluring part about Frank was when he talked. He could say anything, literally, and it would make the voices inside my head go away. All of the self-hate and the doubt, the pain and internal torture-- It would all disappear.

Many times, I didn’t even have to listen to his words, just hearing his voice buzzing with excitement was enough for my mind to clear of the unwanted voices, but I found myself drawn to his rants anyway. He had the most intriguing things to say at times while other silences were filled with nothing more than tired and casual conversations.

There were even times when he didn’t have to say anything at all-- Being near his warmth was enough to make the voices go away.

And the most magical part; He felt it, too. He didn’t know about the effect he had on my voices, I hadn’t yet told him, in fear of creeping him out, but he had made it a point to tell me the effect I had on him; I let him sleep. Somehow, being close to me, he was able to overcome his insomnia and the nightmares that had caused it, and was able to sleep peacefully.

Which leads us to why he had fallen asleep so easily on my bed, literally in the middle of a conversation. One second, he was talking about his treatment-- I had borne witness to the constant drawing of blood, every hour, on the hour, as well as the frequent medication injections. Each time I would cringe away from the needle as if it were pointed at me and Frank would just grin that adorable lopsided smile, pat my knee, and tell me when it was over.-- and the next second, I could hear the soft even breaths that escaped him.

I like watching him sleep. Go on-- Cue the pedophile comments. But in all reality, it made me happy. Not a “I think dirty thoughts of you” kind of happiness, but a relaxing satisfaction, knowing that he’s safe. When he’s asleep, I can see just how young and innocent he is. Being only sixteen, his face is full of youth. Smooth skin stretched out over perfect bone structure, angled and curved in pure pale beauty. His lips, a soft pink color, parted only slightly. I run a finger across his bottom lip, pulling away immediately when I feel him shift and murmur something incoherent. Only a second later, his eyelids flutter open and his hazel eyes land on me.

Frank smiles sleepily and scoots up on the pillow, stretching. I ignore the accelerated pace in my chest when the bottom of his hospital gown rides up a bit, showing off the pale flesh of his upper thighs. Averting my gaze, I force myself to think of other things. Like the way he’s watching me with an amused smirk on his cupid bow lips.

I feel a light blush heat up my cheeks but he says nothing and I find myself fidgeting. My arm has started going to sleep, the prickling of nerves like needles in the near lifeless limb, but I don’t argue because that would mean Frank moving off of it. So instead, I drape my other arm over top of his chest, turning on the uncomfortable mattress to face him.

We don’t say anything for a long moment, no words seeming necessary in the blissful silence. His eyes searching mine, the fluorescent light bouncing off the golden, green, and brown flecks in his iris’, is enough.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep,” Frank finally says, breaking the fragile silence held between us, but his voice in my ears has me sighing in content.

Shaking my head, I smile. “Don’t apologize. I know you’re tired. Your medication--”

My words are cut off when Frank rolls his eyes. “My medication makes me tired, nauseous, dizzy, sensitive to light, too skinny, almost bald, and sometimes a bit flatulent.” He laughs softly and I can’t help the urge to run my fingers across his jawbone, actually feeling the action. “But I like spending time with you when I’m conscious.”

“You’re conscious now,” I point out and Frank nods.

It’s quiet for a long moment and, if it weren’t for his eyes constantly boring into mine, I would have thought he had drifted to sleep again. Eventually he moves slightly, shifting closer to me and nuzzling his face into the crook of my neck. When he exhales, breathing out a small sigh, I’m sure he can feel the chills shake my entire body. He doesn’t mention it if he can, instead saying, “Do you think I’ll die in this place, Gerard?”

My mouth goes dry and I can’t seem to actually swallow a full breath of air. There it is; The ultimatum. The final question. The one thing I’d been avoiding. The truth.

Frank is dying.

I close my eyes, pulling the smaller boy closer. “If you died tomorrow,” I ask, my voice not wavering though my insides feel like they might explode. “What would you do today?”

Frank sits up immediately, grinning down at me and suddenly very interested in the conversation. “You wanna know what I would do?” I don’t reply-- Of course I want to know, that’s why I asked-- I just pull myself to a sitting position as well. Frank reaches out, taking both of my hands in his and pulling them into his lap. He twists our fingers together, watching them as he speaks, but I can see the excitement lighting up again his flawless features. “I would get out of here.” He glances up at me quickly through his eyelashes and I think I can see the hint of a blush. “I’d take you with me. We would go to Jersey City or something and spend the whole day riding the ferris wheel.” He chuckles, speaking mostly to himself by this point. “I always used to be scared of ferris wheels. When they stop the ride and you’re stuck at the top, I would always close my eyes.” He looks up at me and his face is a mix of serenity and sadness. “I wouldn’t be scared if you were with me.” His eyes shift back to his lap and I smile at the thrumming of my heart against my ribcage caused by his words. “My mom used to tell me that if a ferris wheel went high enough, it could take you straight to heaven. I think that’s why I always got scared when it stopped at the top. It made me think that I was going to die. That I would never come back down and I would be stuck up there forever.” His voice cracks near the end and I see a few stray tears leaving his starless eyes. He makes no move to hide his crying, instead looking directly at me and wiping the back of his hand across his face before lowering it back to mine. “I don’t wanna die in here, Gerard.”

I don’t know what to say. What am I supposed to tell him? He knows that he’s dying, we both do. It’s only a matter of time. We both know that his family isn’t coming back and, being a minor, he can’t leave without being discharged into their custody. He’s stuck here, inside these same four walls that feel more and more like they’re caving in with each passing day. We listen every day to the time ticking past with each beat of the heart monitor, waiting for it to flatline and take Frank away.

So I don’t say anything. I wrap my arms around him, letting him cry because he has every right to. I hold him close to me, my gown growing wet with the salty tears, but I don’t mind. When he finally quiets down and I think he’s fallen asleep again, I kiss the top of his head, speaking into his hair. “One day, we’ll run away.”

Franks mumbles something softly, weakly pulling me closer to his small body and I think I must have imagined it when I hear him whisper, “I love you.”

•••

Frank hasn’t spoken to me today. When he woke up, after our conversation about riding the ferris wheel,  he moved to his own bed and hasn’t said anything since.

It’s been twelve hours, not that I’m counting.

He opened his mouth a few times before shaking his head and going back into silence. It worries me, thinking that I might have done something to piss him off. I don’t want Frank to be upset with me and it hurts knowing that he might be. But it scares me to talk to him first and I suddenly feel intimidated by the concentration that is etched onto his face.

Fourteen hours into the silence, he finally turns on his bed to face me and I try to ignore the fact that I can see up his hospital gown. I turn on my own mattress, the sheets twisting around me and making my own gown ride up. Pulling it down, I wait anxiously for him to speak.

Frank purses his lips and breathes out heavily, like a huge weight has finally been lifted. “Did you mean it when you said we can run away from this place?”

Oh. So he had been awake…

I don’t hesitate, not thinking through what he’s actually asking me; Did I offer to kidnap a sixteen year old dying boy from a medical facility? Yes, I did. But more than that; Did I want to make Frank happy?

I nod. “Yes. I meant it.”

Frank looks torn, his expression seeming to split into two separate emotions. Part of him looks curious and untrusting while the more dominant emotion registers as sincere happiness. He stands from his place on the bed, coming forward. He doesn’t jump up onto my bed like I assumed he would. Instead, he stands right before me, my legs parting so he can stand between them and I shiver at his closeness, especially when he rests the palms of his hands on my bare thighs. “Do you promise that we’ll never come back?”

Another nod. I can’t seem to form words, his close proximity making my mind go blank aside from the need to please him.  “I promise.”

A grin stretches across his lips and I want so badly to kiss him, to wrap my arms around his chest and pull him into me.

But I don’t get the chance before a knock sounds on the wooden door and Frank is moving swiftly back to his own bed, leaving me feeling cold at the absence of his warmth. 

•••

They draw more blood, handing Frank a small container of red and blue pills, before shuffling out of the room without even a glance in my direction. As soon as the nurse has exited the room, Frank is out of his bed again, tossing the medication into the trash bin and scrambling up onto my bed. I give him a curious look, cocking a single eyebrow.

“If we’re running away, I don’t want to deal with the side effects of my medicine,” He explains and shoots me a sideways smirk. I can’t help but smile as well, the thought of leaving this dreadful place with Frank making butterflies stir in my stomach. Which only leaves the question which he voices a moment later: “How do we get out without getting caught?”

In the end, I throw up and Frank steals scrubs.

We constituted a plan where I would make a distraction for the nurses and Frank would find us clothes to wear because there was no way we would be able to sneak past the doctors wearing hospital gowns. So, as a distraction, I relapsed.

It’s been over two months now since I’ve purged or starved myself, the voices in my head that made me want to do those things gone in Frank’s presence. But I knew that if I were to relapse back into old habits, the nurses would get involved long enough for Frank to find clothes. 

Frank wasn’t happy with this plan, as he made me promise not to actually get sick.

“I have to get sick in order for them to get involved,” I had argued.

He knew this, too, and nodded solemnly. “Does it hurt?”

I didn’t answer, biting my lip and wrapping my hand around his, squeezing once. “It will be worth it.”

Soon enough, I was sprawled out on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, nurses surrounding me on every side, with Frank nowhere to be seen. It doesn’t take long, as Frank was rather quick in finding something for us to wear and I didn’t want to cause a big enough scene that might result in sedation.

When the nurses thought they had calmed me down, they left Frank and I alone once again. The smaller boy hopped up onto my bed and handed me some type of crinkly blue fabric. “Doctor’s scrubs?” I wonder.

“It’s the best I could find,” Frank says, pulling out his own uniform. “I was trying to hurry.”

I nod in understanding and then stand up. I’m about to make my way to the bathroom for a small amount of privacy in changing, but stop dead in my tracks when Frank stands as well and pulls the gown off over his head. I’m frozen in place, watching him in a way that probably screams pedophile, but I can’t seem to look away.  I’m mesmerized by the pale skin of his back, as he’s facing away from me. The muscle seems to ripple under the flawless flesh though some of it has deteriorated due to the medication. My eyes trail down his slim figure, skimming over each and every inch until they come to rest of the top of his boxers. That’s when he turns around.

I feel my face flush immediately, having been caught staring, and look away. I can hear Frank’s soft chuckle and mentally curse myself for being such a creep. It surprises me when Frank steps forward, his hands grazing over mine. My eyes shoot back to his as he intertwines our fingers and raises my hand to place it on his chest, right where his heart is. “Feel that?” He asks.

And I do. It’s slower than a heartbeat should be, but it’s there, faintly. I can also feel the rugged breathing through his deteriorating lungs. I nod, swallowing hard against the rising lump in my throat.

Frank smiles. “That means I’m still alive. And I want to get out of here while I’m alive. So put your damn clothes on and stop checking out my ass.” He turns away, glancing back over his shoulder and winking at me, making my face flare up bright red again. “You’ll have time to do that when we get out of here.”

•••

It’s easier than it should be, I think, to get past the doctors and nurses. But, after changing into scrubs, it’s simple to slip past the professionals and out into the early May air. As soon as we’re outside, walking down the sidewalk away from the grim white building, Frank grins. It feels like we’ve just escaped prison and, in a way, we have. But, instead of being inmates, we were called patients and our only crime was being sentenced to death way too early. I smile, watching as Frank spreads his arms out wide and lets the warm air surround him. He spins around, head back and eyes closed, just enjoying the atmosphere away from the hospital room he’s been forced into for so long. For the first time since I’ve met him, there’s a genuine smile on his face. He’s always been a happy person, but this goes beyond happiness.

He’s alive.

He laughs, a captivating sound, and suddenly takes my hand in his, dragging me further down the walkway. I don’t fight it, instead going right along with him because his excitement is the only thing I want to see.

It doesn’t take long to walk to Jersey City and I kind of wish it had taken longer. I want more time with Frank, feeling his hand in mine, his body right next to me, our legs moving in step with the others. The Jersey City shore is in full swing when he arrive. It’s like an amusement park or carnival year round, lined with stores and rides and booths offering food and candy. I can see the ferris wheel in the distance, moving around in continuous circles, and smile. But before I have the chance to point it out to Frank, I’m being dragged into the air conditioning of a store and Frank’s hand in mine disappears.

The store seems too dark after the sunlight outside and I can only make out a few racks of clothing. I don’t see Frank anywhere.

“Frank?” I ask, moving around one rack, my eyes shifting around the dimly lit area. I hear a laugh, noticing it immediately as Frank’s, and spin on my heels. Nothing. Another laugh.

This time, I feel a smile stretch across my face and let out a small chuckle. “Come on, Frank. Where are you?”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I feel a hand wrap around my own and I’m pulled backward. I stumble and actually trip over my own feet, dragging Frank down with me. Somehow we both end up on the carpeted floor, him lying on top of my chest in a fit of laughter. He’s beautiful, the way the shadows creep across his face, his eyes crinkled up with the humor. But as soon as our eyes meet, the laughter dies down into uneven breaths. It actually seems as if he‘s leaning closer to me, our lips only an inch apart. His tongue snakes out to run over his bottom lip, grazing mine in the process and sending chills down my spine. I can’t fight it anymore and my hands find his body, one caressing his hip while the other brushes through his hair, and I pull him to me.

It’s short, just a simple brush of our skin against each others in an exhilarating kiss, and yet it’s everything I imagined it would be. Frank pulls back and watches me with a smile playing on the corners of his mouth, before scrambling to his feet. He grabs my hands and tugs me along after him through the small shop.

Then, and only then, do I allow myself to check out his ass.

It doesn’t take long to find clothes, replacing our uncomfortable scrubs with jeans and souvenir T-shirts instead. Frank had a small stash of money from before he was admitted which he kept with him in the hospital. That, combined with the money I had left in my wallet since my admittance, was more than enough and we paid for our new outfits. When we were changed and comfortable, Frank led me out of the store and down the line of booths that were offering unhealthy foods and artificially flavored drinks. “I’m hungry,” He states. “I’ve been eating shitty hospital food for too long. I need sugar and fatty food.” His face perks up and he begins bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Can we get snow cones?” He asks and I’m reminded of a kid who’s just visiting the carnival for the first time-- The excitement and the innocence surrounding him like an aura. “Oh! And funnel cakes?!”

I nod, running my hand down his arm until it rests in his, and smile. “We can get anything you want.”

Frank grins and I think I see a hint of a blush as he turns away, keeping our hands together, and moving into line of a people at the right booth. When we have the food, I hand the plate to Frank and lead him to a table that overlooks the ocean. It’s surrounded by other tables, most occupied by small families or couples. I watch as Frank rips off a bite of the pastry, coated in powdered sugar, and smiles, holding it up for me to eat. I happily take the food, my lips brushing against his fingertips and making him blush. He quickly looks down and tears off his own bite. It’s only just gotten to his mouth when a fit of coughing erupts from his chest and the serene silence is filled with loud hacks. I scoot closer, rubbing a hand on his back but knowing there’s nothing I can actually do to make the choking stop. When the coughing finally settles down, Frank looks up. His expression is a mix of sadness and embarrassment as he glances around at the other tables. I hadn’t noticed before but each of them were shooting us annoyed looks. “Sorry,” He mumbles, only loud enough for me to hear, and wipes the back of his hand across his mouth. A small amount of blood streaks his pale cheek and, without really thinking it through, I grab a napkin and wipe it away.

Crumpling the paper and dropping it back to the table, I scoot even closer to Frank, brushing some of the hair away from his face. “Don’t apologize,” I tell him. “None of this is your fault, Frank.” He nods, but the sadness that seems to have overtaken his features makes my heart want to break. “Hey,” I smile down at him, getting all up close and popping his personal bubble. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and run my nose along his cheek, from his ear down to the crook of his neck. I sigh, breathing him in, and feel him shiver though he couldn’t possibly be cold. “I have something I think you’ll like.”

Without waiting for an answer, I stand up, pulling him with me. Abandoning the unhealthy food at the table, I tug him along after me through the gathering clusters of people, not stopping until I see it.

Along the shore, people are constantly looking for ways to make money. Some dress up as mimes and act out skits, some perform mediocre magic shows, and others play music.

Recalling when I had first arrived at the hospital, when Frank had mentioned playing guitar, I got an idea. There were only a few people listening to the man before us as he strummed almost quietly on the acoustic and I stepped forward, dropping Frank’s hand. I placed a few dollars into the open case before turning to the player.

“Five minutes,” I ask. “If you let my friend play for five minutes, I’ll give you everything in my wallet.” I pull out the small leather bind and open it up, showing the man the contents.

He smiles easily and slips the acoustic off his shoulder, handing it out to Frank. Frank’s eyes widen and he looks to me for help, but I just nod, urging him to take the instrument. After only a moments hesitation, he puts the strap around his neck, plucking at a few chords. It only takes a moment before his instincts come forward and he’s completely wrapped up in the music.

I don’t recognize the tune and I think that maybe it’s an original. Only a few notes in, Frank starts singing. It’s soft at first, evidently nervous, but when he starts on the chorus, emotion swells in the words and I find myself completely enveloped in the sound of his voice.

More people gather around, watching this beautiful man sing his heart out to a group of strangers, looking more alive and happy than he’s ever been, contradicting the melancholy tune and yet somehow only making it sound even more enticing.

When the song is over, a few people clap while others drop money into the case and  the group disperses. Frank is grinning when he hands the guitar back to it’s owner and turns to me, literally throwing himself into my arms. “Thank you so much, Gerard,” He breathes into my neck and I hug him tighter.

“The day’s not over yet,” I say. “I think I recall something about setting the ferris wheel ablaze.”

Frank pulls back, smiling. He stands up on the tips of his toes and kisses me quickly. I don’t even have to react before Frank is running off, pulling me behind him. I see the ferris wheel, blue and purple and red lighting it up in the fading sunlight and growing bigger as we approach it.

The line isn’t long and within minutes, Frank and I are being strapped into the narrow seat. He bites his lip, whether in nervousness or excitement, I’m not sure, and intertwines his fingers with mine. He jumps slightly when the ride starts moving and then laughs at himself.

The ferris wheel overlooks the waterfront, giving Frank and I a view of the sun settling on the horizon like a ball on the water. Pink, orange, and blue mix like paint on a canvas, creating the image of heaven before us. I only notice the ride has stopped with us at the top when I glance over at Frank and see his eyes are closed tightly.

I nudge his shoulder with mine and squeeze his hand. “You don’t have to be scared,” I tell him. My voice is quiet against the air around us, sounding as serene as the sunset looks. “I’m right here.”

Frank swallows hard. “Do you promise you won’t let go?”

I nod though he can’t see, leaning closer to him. “I promise.”

I watch as Frank’s eyelids flutter open and he gasps at the scene before us. “Wow,” He whispers. “This… This is amazing.” Suddenly he looks over at me and my heart nearly stops, seeing the vibrant gleam in his innocent eyes. He leans forward, crashing his lips to mine. Longer than the other kisses, it holds so much passion, so much desire, and I’m sure I don’t imagine it this time when I hear Frank mumble against my lips, “I love you, Gerard.”

I pull away, almost an involuntary reaction as I don’t actually want to stop kissing him, but I want even more to see those beautiful eyes. Resting my forehead against his, I lightly kiss his nose. “I love you, too.”

We both jump when the ride starts moving again and then almost freak out when the seat starts rocking with the motion. When we reach the bottom, we both climb off and onto solid ground, promising each other than one time around was enough. Frank looks paler than usual and he stumbles a few times, falling into me.

“Can we sit down?” He asks.

I lead him toward water, finding an unoccupied bench, and letting him sit down. He leans into my side, my arm around his shoulders. It’s been a long day. He’s probably exhausted.

“Today,” Frank starts, pausing to yawn and snuggle closer to me. “Has been the best day ever.” He glances up at me through thick lashes. “Thank you for everything.”

It’s silent for a few moments and Frank’s even breathing shows me that he’s fallen asleep. I rest my head on the top of his and sigh in content, feeling happier than I ever have before to have Frank asleep in my arms.

••• 

I wake up to the sound of waves crashing against the sand. The background noise of carnival music and people have disappeared with the day and, with the moon high overhead, the ocean is the only sound I hear. A chill reverberates through my body and I cringe against the cool air, hugging Frank tighter. I don’t want him to be cold. I shift on the bench, trying to get comfortable under his weight. “Frank?” I mumble, nudging him. Maybe we should have bought a blanket. Even together, we wouldn’t have enough money for even the cheapest of motel rooms, but I don’t want him to get cold. “Frank,” I say again, this time shaking him a little. Still, no reaction. Panic begins to set in and I find myself shaking him even harder. “Frank? Frank, wake up. Frank!” I’m turned on the bench, facing the boy beside me, my arms wrapped around his cold and still figure.

No, this can’t be it. This can’t be the end.

“Frank?” I realize I’m crying now, warm tears streaking down my icy cheeks, but I don’t care. “Frank…” I give up on shaking him and just hug him closer, needing to feel the warmth his body is no longer giving off.

I don’t know how long I stay like that, just holding the lifeless boy, but eventually my tears stop coming. My shaking sobs turn into silence and I feel as though I can’t control my own body. I feel numb and it’s not from the cold.

When I stand up, at first it doesn’t even feel as though it’s on my own. I feel weak and yet somehow I manage to cradle Frank’s body in my arms, forcing my feet forward. My mind is empty and crowded at the same time. It’s like I have so many heart wrenching thoughts shooting through me that I can’t even focus on one and my body is moving on it’s own accord. My feet shuffle on their own across the sand and then, soon, concrete. I don’t pay attention to where I’m walking, as my body seems to know exactly where it wants me.

When my mind finally registers, I see that I’m on a bridge. I look down, almost expecting to see waves, but the darkness holds nothing but cold hard asphalt.

Gently, I place one last kiss on Frank’s cool lips, knowing that I won’t get a reaction this time. “I love you,” I whisper. “I told you I wouldn’t let go.”

And with that, I take the step off of the ledge, pain, love, desire, and death all swirling around me in one final burst of emotion before the hard ground takes me away from the cold air and back to Frank.


End file.
